Prompt: Touch
by Selene Jeager
Summary: Monsoon can be found alone in his room that lies adjacent to his office. Inside, in its darkness, he watches the snow of Denver's winter fall. Deep in mental musings the Cambodian decides to toy with his body's output sensitivities. Ill feeling ensue. Soft-care not safe for work type stuff mentioned-nothing too bad.


Even if he d had his room for months now, with it so rarely used, it was strange to actually lie down on his bed. It wasn't that he didn't like it quite frankly it was rather luxurious to anything he d grown accustomed to in that back-alley shithole that was his homeland.

The room was too dark and he d honestly not paid enough attention to really notice what color the walls were. It wasn't as though he was in here enough to make a note of some stray detail like that anyway. That being said, with the curtains open and the view available to him, what he could see was snow. He rarely saw such things in Cambodia. Perhaps it had secretly been another reason why he d chosen to reside over World Marshall.

Who was he kidding? He didn't want the responsibility that came with the five layers of political tape involved with Sundowner s job. He d really no desire for his current position of power, but he d take his continued assassinations and electrolyte requisition forms over what had been dumped in the Californian Wildfire s lap.

He wanted as far from the center of Desperado as could be obtained. Here in Denver he had that at least.

Even without his real flesh, artificial nerves spun though CNT fiber made sure that he knew how cold it were. With his will alone he could adjust his body s sensitivity to make it where it were just a senseless shell but he needed its responses and registration of pain and touch to fight properly.

What good was a body without its ability to register sensations? None. Without sensitivity he wouldn't even be able to hold Dystopia properly without a basic sense of pressure in his padded palms. If for nothing else, a sense of touch were needed to determine how hard he was gripping his blackened twins.

He d long since removed his visor as serpentine optics wandered freely. Where his head rigging haloed out behind his skull's casing he d pulled free as well.

If he was going to actually sleep on his bed for tonight instead of sitting on a shelf with his connections severed to his body while they tinkered and toyed at it, he figured he might as well make the most of it.

Silver hair rested in a wavy and askew mess against his pillow. Reaching his blood red palm upwards he curled a strand of it around a single finger as he gave it a small tug just enough to feel the sensation of pain. He d wanted a brief moment of real pain and not what the artificial receptors of his frame fed his brain.

He almost wanted to revel in such a simple action.

Entering augmented view that he d had minimized in his optic's feed, he brought up his sensitivity controls. Curiously, and for lack of better amusement, he decided to be a little masochistic as he slowly increased them. They d been at a normal setting and with each further nudge upwards it made him all the more apparent of _**everything.**_

He swore he could feel his chassis own heat as it radiated off him like a furnace now or so was the illusion it gave. The sensations received made him feel hot even in the cooler room. The clashing temperatures made a chill creep the length of real and artificial spine alike.

Even though he was no longer completely organic it was almost disturbing how terrifyingly real this body of his could not only interpret but mimic the things his real flesh and blood knew all too well. It was such a haunting feeling to him. He mourned the loss of his body, but not just that, he craved the loss of his genuine senses.

With his current chassis came that millisecond-type pause of sensation lag as they called it. Even in combat he had to be able to read his opponents well enough to react ahead and make up for that lag to compensate for it so he didn't have what flesh remained of him on the line.

When he shifted the silky sheets almost made him forget that he was a cyborg. It was only a moment but it had been a moment too long to quell the desires that came with it.

Two carnal desires made themselves known then and there:

Firstly hunger something he no longer felt. Having a stomach the size of his fist tucked away in his uppermost section came with very little desire for much more than a cup of tea. Something so simple had become his last true comfort in the hell he d been rebirthed into. Anything that could help cover up the horrible taste of the electrolyte paste that he had to consume to help maintain his body was, dare he say, a god send for lack of a better English phrase.

Even though he no longer really had a reason to eat the mental desire to gorge himself as he had, in days past, still made itself known. How he longed to have solids that wouldn't sit in this tiny little ball of an artificial stomach and eventually make him sick.

He d already made that mistake much against the technicians orders. He d been unable to help himself though. He were only .human?

**No.** He was no human anymore.

Gazing down to his body again his eyes traveled downwards. It was sleekly designed, sure, but the second of his desires was not a part of its architecture.

Rubberized fingertips grazed lightly over his stomach causing him to shudder. He really was sensitive right now...and damn did it feel sinfully pleasant. Fingertips came to rest on the codpiece between his thighs. It was there to give the impression of something but underneath that was no longer the case

Freedom to move and see again for this. Logically it was a sound trade or was it really? What good was being able to move around never to enjoy the touch of another. So much time spent without any form of intimacy had caused enough thought on that particular area to remind him that his trade wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Fingers grazed lazily, longingly, over the plating that lined his groin as if something was still there.

How pathetic he must have looked right now. That was worse to him than the incessant gawking cast to him on the streets below.

Sectioned black forearm brushed against his thigh as he shivered yet again the smallest hint of a low gasp made itself known. Just how high had he gotten his sensitivities up to ?

If he still had proper skin the fine hairs of his arms would have stood up like he was assured was happening right now along the back of his very-real neck.

A single finger grazed across his thigh now another followed as the pinprick graze deepened to something more. Fingers moved in more sensual caresses now that carried enough power with such small actions to cause the full-bodied cyborg to arch his back longingly.

Sucking in a free breath of air he rocked his hips. Had he still had his nature it would have twitched hungrily for something more.

His own thoughts caused him to frown.

_**Had he...**_

With something so simple came the full weight of its meaning rather crushingly. It was painful for him to imagine never being able to bury it into anything warm and throbbing again in a visceral hunger.

Could he close his eyes right then and there he would have. Red fingertips had come to join black in their explorations but with every artificial nerve-jolting effort pressed against him came no relief no release.

There was only a growing fire in the core of his being a phantom pain that hungered to be satisfied in its primal coil. The stimulation he offered himself were perfect exquisite even if pitiful and ironic.

A shell of a man in a shell lined with artificial nerve endings trying to get himself off with no way to properly do such a deed.

He knew he could lay here and turn up his sensations and touch himself until he was writhing and blue in the face with hungry cries of desire, but what good were it? It would bring him no release and godless heaven did he want that comfort right then and there.

_'Just one more time,'_ he thought to himself feebly.

It was then that he gripped one of the pillows in a fit of deep-pitted rage before he hurling it into the opposite wall. Its impact were so strong that it had caused a section of one of its seams to rip open. Curls of polyester fluff was poking out of it now.

A feral scowl had twisted across the Desperado Captain s face but it was short lived before his shoulders sagged.

Drawing his legs toward him as best as the tall and lanky cyborg could he pressed his forehead against folded arms. Silent and tearless sobs came in hushed waves now as they bounced off of soundproofed walls.

* * *

_Touch, sweet touch. You've given me too much to feel._

_Sweet touch. You've almost convinced me I m real._

_I need something more I need something real._

**-Touch by Daft Punk**


End file.
